Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot
by gutsandglitter
Summary: After a romantic night is spurred by a mistletoe kiss, Greg is left bitter and alone for New Year's.


_Something of a sequel to Mistletoe. As always, I own nothing. _

_Happy holidays everyone!_

_~B_

* * *

><p>Greg had completely blown it. He had acted rashly and now he had to pay the price for it.<p>

He sat at his tiny kitchen table, nursing a beer while New Year's festivities flashed across the tv screen, filling the flat with a false sense of merriment.

It had all seemed so perfect in the moment. Mycroft had been completely unaware that he had been standing under the mistletoe, just inviting a Christmas kiss. The kiss had gotten pretty hot, so slightly tipsy Greg had invited Mycroft back to his place where they had engaged in a round of absolutely fantastic sex. But when Greg awoke the next morning, he was completely alone. No note, no call, nothing. Greg had been a one night stand for the British government. Yes, that would make for an excellent memoir title, but right now Greg was feeling lonely and used.

Sure, he'd had one night stands before. He had slept around quite a bit in his younger days, he knew the drill. But this one was different. He had really felt something for Mycroft and had apparently deluded himself into thinking maybe Mycroft had been on the same page.

Greg sighed and slumped against the table. He considered getting spectacularly drunk and passing out on the couch, but decided that was a bad way to usher in a new year. He stood up and stretched, glancing at the clock. Ten 'til midnight. Not worth staying up the extra few minutes.

He began to make his way to the bedroom. Suddenly he heard a small knock on the front door. Curious, he crossed to it and peered through the peephole. He blinked twice, thinking the image was just a mirage. He warily opened the door, and there stood Mycroft Holmes in all his glory. Well, maybe not all his glory. His eyes were bloodshot and his usually immaculate suit was rumpled.

"Er, hi?" Greg said, his confusion creeping into his voice.

Mycroft coughed slightly. "Ah, hello Gregory. May I please come inside?"

Greg chewed his lip slightly before nodding, allowing the taller man to walk past him into the small apartment.

Mycroft shifted uneasily on his feet for a moment before speaking. His speech came out rapidly and Greg could hear the slight tremor of nervousness in the man's voice. "Gregory, I cannot begin to find the words to describe how sorry I am for leaving you so unceremoniously the other night. I was called to an emergency meeting which turned to an impromptu trip to Istanbul which turned into a minor hostage crisis. That is absolutely no excuse for not contacting you and I am deeply ashamed for not trying harder to reach you. I…I just needed you to know that it was not for lack of affection for you." He paused, unsure of what to say next.

Greg chuckled at the impossibly endearing man before him. He couldn't believe this was happening. He knew he should be angry, but the beautifully rumpled man standing before was just too perfect to stay mad at. "Well, alright then. I'll for give you. But only because you have impeccable timing. You're just in time to be my New Year's kiss." He stepped forward, resting a hand on Mycroft's forearm.

Mycroft looked down at the hand in disbelief, then back up to it's owner's face. He smiled slowly. "Must all of our kisses be spurred by holiday traditions?" he asked playfully.

Greg's face grew serious. "Mycroft, in the interest of full disclosure, I bloody well hope not. I want to be able to kiss you because your hair has fallen a certain way or because I'm angry with you. Because I'm glad to see you. Because Man United beat Chelsea. Because I can. I really care about you Mycroft, and I don't want this to be just some sort of holiday lark." He looked down at his shoes. On tv, the crowds began to chant the countdown.

_Ten, nine, eight…._

Mycroft's heart fluttered. He reached up and cupped Greg's stubbled cheek, causing Greg to look back up.

_Seven, six…_

"This is no holiday lark, Gregory."

_Five, four…_

Greg's face softened, he leaned slightly into the warm palm caressing his cheek.

_Three…_

Carefully, Mycroft leaned down until his lips were centimeters from Greg's.

_Two…_

Greg sucked in his breath slightly, taking Mycroft's breath away in both the literal and figurative sense.

_One…_

Mycroft closed the distance, pressing his lips to Greg's. Greg reached up and wrapped his arms around Mycroft's neck, pulling him as close as possible.

_Happy New Year!_


End file.
